Passionately Loveless
by Ice of the Kitsune's Fire
Summary: Because, you know, it's like Cinderella. Only she can't even act like she's in love, and he's the jerkiest jerk she's ever met. Albeit, a very handsome jerk... wait, what? SoulxMaka AU


She was sitting by herself, a tear threatening to fall down her cheek. Alone. The word seemed to push and shove at her, stretching until it seemed to cover her whole atmosphere, making even the sunset outside her window seem cold and empty.

"…so you really never came…."

"Who never came?"

The deep, masculine tone shocked her out of her reverie, and she turned with a start. White hair, red eyes- the only thing that was missing was that lopsided, crooked, charming smile. She hadn't even heard the door to her apartment open.

"Of course I came, stupid." Then he seemed to smile the very grin of her thoughts, and she felt her lips quiver.

"What about… your… date?" Her voice broke and scattered across an octave; he laughed at that, making her pout in defiance.

"Nah. I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything in the world."

Her arms went around his neck, and her emerald eyes slowly closed as her lips and his parted, slowly drawing near to each other for the very first kiss.

For the fiftieth time that afternoon.

"CUT!"

Quickly jumping away from her equally-disgusted coworker (or at least, that's what it seemed like to her), Maka shot an annoyed glance at the director, trying to edge her way off the set.

"What is it, sir?" She asked for what seemed to be the sixtieth time. He gave her a look that matched her own irritation, like, you-should-know-what-I'm-talking-about, and shook his head.

"For a top-notch actress, you seem to lack the skill."

Maka bristled; next to her, that very white-haired, red-eyed boy she was about to kiss snickered and turned away. Soul. She shot him a glare that would kill, and then returned to face the director.

"I apologize," She said, knowing her temper was likely to get a hold of her. "What part of my performance is not satisfactory?" Another snicker from Soul. She discreetly elbowed him, and silently enjoyed the silent, "Ow," he emitted.

The director sighed. "You're excellent, Maka, and you live up to your name. But can't you, y'know… sound more like you really mean what you're saying?"

"What do you mean?" Maka blinked in confusion.

The director groaned in exasperation, and the rest of the workers recognized this as their cue to take a break, and started parting from the set. "Love, Maka. Can't you act a little more like you really love him?" He gestured vaguely at Soul, who nodded in agreement, albeit a tad smugly. "Just… just think of any times you've been on a date or had a crush, or something." He sighed again. "Let's take a break."

At this, Maka seemed to deflate. This wasn't the first job she'd taken that had pointed out her lack of passion for… well, being passionate, oddly enough. She trudged off the set.

Books were really what had gotten her into the career. Her love of the far-away lands and forbidden romances had inspired her to want to see them enacted in real life, and led to her to really explore the job. She liked to pretend that, no matter the role of her character, she was the main character of a novel, and this somehow helped her to do well.

Except…

Except, Maka scowled, the one thing she couldn't do was romance. It was ironic, since it was her favorite genre, but if there was anything she didn't believe in, over ghosts, over superstitions, over the opening-umbrellas-indoors-or-breaking-a-mirror curses, it was-

"MAKAAAAAAA!" A large blob of red and black promptly hurled itself at Maka. In turn, Maka proceeded to avoid the makeshift hug and punch her father in the gut.

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't come to visit me at work," She mumbled to the ground. "I can take care of myself…"

Really, it was all her father's fault, but it wasn't like she could change the past. Maka ignored her father's attempts to please her, even offering an early lunch, but she brushed him off, and went into her dressing room, shutting the door in his face.

"Are you alright, Maka?"

Turning with a small smile, Maka noted the gentle smile her long time friend, and manager, Tsubaki, was offering.

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, genius of showbiz and Maka's best friend, was a woman who both didn't dither, but was neither strict nor overbearing. And right now, Maka could tell she was going into a typical Tsubaki mode: Worried.

"No, I'm fine," she muttered, turning to face the mirror.

Thinking about it, it was no wonder she didn't have a boyfriend. Or a real, normal guy friend. Or a romantic love life. Hell, she didn't even have a romantic interest, and wasn't likely to gain an admirer. Maka's lips pursed at her thoughts, looking at her hair, skimming down past her eyes, and to her chest.

She hadn't realized she'd put her hands over her chest until Tsubaki took them off with a gentle reproach.

"Maka, if you were considered plain and boring, you wouldn't have gotten into this business. Especially where you are now." Mixed into the gentle Tsubaki-ness was an underlying tone that meant both business and truth.

"Easy for you to say," Maka muttered, eyeing Tsubaki's own chest. Tsubaki let out one of her trademark sighs and smiled at Maka.

"Happened again?"

"Yeah," Maka muttered. "But, I really tried, it's just-!"

Knock, knock.

Swearing to beat the crap out of the person interrupting her, Maka stomped over to the door and swung it open.

"Oh. It's you."

"'Oh, it's you'? You sound like you're not excited at all to see me." Soul grinned jaggedly at Maka. "You doing okay?"

"I guess. I mean, it'd be better if you weren't here," Maka snorted, and gestured at him. "You just seem intent on ruining my day."

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual," Soul chuckled, but cocked an eyebrow at her. "But you know I'm totally making your day."

"Are not," She grunted, turning away. Truth? The darkly handsome and (she winced inwardly as she thought it) cool Soul seemed to attract her just as much as he repelled her. "What do you want?"

"Time's almost up. Manager told me to come get you."

She shut the door in his face. Tsubaki seemed as worried as ever, approaching Maka to flutter over her like a flustered mother.

"Don't listen to him," She murmured. "Try your best. I'm sure you'll get it."

"Right," Maka breathed, and went out to face the director and crew once more.

-.~.-.~.-

"Am I not good enough?" Maka demanded, banging her fist down onto the coffee table. Wide-eyed and surprised, her friends cowered on the other side.

They were sitting in a café Tsubaki's family owned; because it was well pass closing time, the café was empty and void of life.

"I'm… I'm sure that you'll figure something out," Liz chuckled halfheartedly, throwing up her hands to shield herself from Maka's rage. Even her sister, Patty, seemed to shrink a little at the frustration Maka was emitting, and only nodded.

The Thompson Sisters were famous for having starred in a popular movie that had skyrocketed in sales partially because of their ability to act as crazy, insane gunwoman.  
Well, Patty seemed to fit the role well enough.

"You have one week, he tells me," Maka growled out through her teeth, hand clenching the small, porcelain cup forcefully. Tsubaki stared at the cup, a little fearful it would break. "I'll be fired, he tells me. Can't he see that I've worked my ass off to even be in this movie?"

"I'm sure the director has," Tsubaki assured, glancing around the café, thankful that it was empty. "However, you have to acknowledge that other people would be willing to work as hard as you." She seemed to slip into a more business-like persona. "Maka, I understand working in this industry is hard, but if you can't adapt to a script, then you don't get work. It's as simple as that."

"…I know..." Maka let her head rest against her hand as she leaned on the table. "Sorry. I'm just a little frustrated." She looked up at the older woman, who just smiled.

"Whatever," Liz yawned, getting up to leave. "I'm sure that the second you figure this out, you'll knock their socks off."

"Bang!" Patty cackled in agreement. Tsubaki got up, looking at Maka expectedly.

"Well, are you ready to go? You have to go to work in the morning."

"You go on home, Tsubaki," Maka said quietly. "I have some stuff I want to do first."

Tsubaki seemed worried, but knew not to press. "Well, be careful."

"I will."

And finally, Maka was blissfully alone. For real this time.

Stepping out, she made a direct beeline to the library, pulling her hood over her head so as not to be recognized, and feeling a little silly doing it. Still, once there, she knew that she would be happily absorbed into fantasies of far away, and not have to worry about that stupid job, and that stupid grin. Just thinking about Soul made her bristle in defiance. She trudged up the steps of the building and passed without hassle, making a direct beeline for her favorite section, pulling out several novels.

Romance novels.

For the first time in her life, reading her favorite books proved only to be annoying.

She hadn't realized how much time had passed until a loud BANG interrupted her reading, and her head snapped up to look at the window- OWcramp. Cracking her neck, she looked at the clock disbelievingly, and then out the window even more so.  
Thunder. Rain. And five minutes until closing time.

Cursing under her breath (because she needed a lot more sleep than what she was going to have now to deal with jerks like Soul), Maka raced out the library and hopped out, attempting to skip steps in her hurry to get home. Oh, good, a taxi! She waved wildly, bringing the vehicle to a stop by the curb. She approached the last of the steps-

"Ah!" She yelped in surprise, and tripped over a caught sneaker, which tumbled off as she tumbled down the steps miserably.

"Ow," She groaned, looking around for her sneaker.

"Hey, lady!" The taxi driver called out. "The storm's getting bad! Hurry up!"

"Coming!" With one, last worried glance around (where was the darn thing?), she began to walk towards the taxi, her right sock getting soaked.

She was just about to get in when someone's voice called out, "Hey, miss!"

Maka nearly turned, but an impatient honk from the driver made her hop in and shut the car's door. As they sped away, Maka caught sight of someone's outline through the rain on the window, waving something wildly. She sighed. It was probably her sneaker. And they were her favorite set of sneakers, too.

She glared irritably the entire way home.

-.~.-.~.-

Maka woke up the first time to her alarm. Chucking it against the wall (as typical of her favorite protagonist of her favorite series, she dimly noted), she shut it up and buried herself under the covers.

The second time she woke up was to her cell phone, which she nearly chucked against the wall as well, until she saw the caller ID.

"Hello? Tsubaki?" She asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"Maka! You're late!" came the flustered reply. "We're going to start in twenty minutes! Where are you?"

Maka bolt upright. "Ah, shoot! Sorry, be right there."

She threw aside the covers with a dramatic flair, caught herself doing so, and then carefully placed them back in order. Then came a flurry of clothes as she pulled on the hooded jacket from last night and a pair of jeans. The jacket was a little damp, but no matter- she would change on set, anyways.

She rushed down the steps of her apartment, mildly surprised to find motorcycle waiting for her.

"Soul?" She asked, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

"Tsubaki called me. Hop on." Soul grinned.

"Are you kidding me?" Maka gasped. "I am not getting on that thing."

"Well," Soul shrugged, giving her a smug look, "it's either this or you're late. You can walk, for all I care."

Maka growled in irritation.

Minutes later, she was holding on tightly (and a little awkwardly) to Soul's waist, clamping her mouth shut so she wouldn't be screaming her lungs out. Soul laughed at her tenseness.

"Relax, tiny-tits. I'm not going to kill you."

"But if you said what I think you just did, I'll kill you," Maka snarled, tightening her grip on his waist into a death hold. He choked out, surprised, and the motorcycle suddenly swerved. Shocked, Maka loosened her grip.

"Jeez, woman." He coughed. "You owe me for even bothering to pick you up."

"You called me tiny tits. I owe you nothing."

"For a 'famous' actor, you're pretty wound," Soul remarked, throwing the word 'famous' out like an insult. "There's nothing wrong with me saying the truth- ow! Alright, alright, I'll stop." He chuckled as Maka pouted impatiently.

"Are we there yet?"

"Add those words to your hairstyle," He said, gesturing his head at her pigtails, "and you'd be a first grader."

"Would you shut up?" She screeched, nearly making the motorcycle swerve once more.

"Hey, it's cute," He grinned. Maka grit her teeth, unsure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment.

They didn't say any more as they sped through the streets.

-.~.-.~.-

"All right! That's a wrap for today." The director nodded. "You did better today, Maka."

"Did I really?" Maka muttered, looking down at her feet. "Thanks." But she'd done the exact same thing as before! Nothing had changed…

Except, had she felt a spark of longing when her lips neared Soul's? Impossible. A blush spread over her cheeks, and she mentally berated herself for thinking that. Soul, the jerk, the impossible guy, tens time better at her in acting, probably hated her guts-

-and still managed to warm her insides when he looked at her and said he loved her. Like he meant it, even though the cameras were filming their every move.

"Thinking about me?" Came a husky voice.

Yelping in shock, Maka whirled around, accidentally smacking Soul in the face. "Ah! I'm so sorry!"

"Jeez, Maka!" Soul moaned. "Now you really do owe me."

"What?" Maka spluttered. "B-but, it was an accident!"

"I'm not letting you off the hook," He grinned. "You owe me big time." Then he removed his hand and Maka saw a red mark appearing on his cheek.

"Okay, fine," She said in defeat, feeling guilt spread through her gut. "What do you want?"

Soul chuckled, victorious. "Why don't you change out of your set clothes?" he said, pointing. "Then we can talk."

-.~.-.~.-

Maka opened her door in frustration, slamming it closed and locking it. Who did he think he was? Even if she had smacked him! Nothing but a two-bit, cruddy actor (though he was better than her) that was a total jerk (and still looked hot doing it- wait, what?), had an ego to boot (it was nearly as large as his head), and commanded her like, like-

But, she noted in an aside, he wasn't really commanding her at all. Picking her up to go to work, asking her to change so they could talk, it was almost as if they were-

Quickly shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she began to change into her regular clothes. She was nearly done when she noticed the package by the mirror. Curious, she went to examine it.

A shoe box with a bow? She wrinkled her nose. If this was an anonymous gift, then the person needed some serious advice on how to wrap a present. Untying the bow, she cast aside the top and peered inside.

She felt her mind go blank.

Inside the box was a dirty, muddied sneaker.

-.~.-.~.-

"Okay," Maka said, approaching Soul, who was leaning against the wall, waiting for her. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well," Soul said, looking sheepish. "I couldn't help but remember what the director told you, and seeing as you only have six days left…"

"What?" She snapped, feeling anger rise up. "Are you trying to rub it in?"

"Do you want to practice with me?"

Maka blinked.

"What?"

"I said, do you want to practice?" Soul said impatiently, eying her like he doubted her intelligence. "I was thinking that I could help you get better, so, you know…" He looked down, a slight blush over his face. "So you can stay."

Feeling a blush of her own coming onto her face, Maka agreed.

-.~.-.~.-

Days until deadline: 5

She knew it was a little foolish, seeing as her secret (Admirer? Stalker?) helper probably wouldn't come back again, but Maka felt like she had to leave some sort of gratitude behind for the person, even if her sneaker was ruined from the rain. She found a piece of scrap paper and wrote in looping, small handwriting:

Thanks so much for returning my sneaker. I don't know how you found it, but it means a lot to me. Can I ask who exactly you are?

-Maka A.

Satisfied with the note she had propped up against the mirror, she left to begin the shooting for the day.

When she returned, the note had been flipped around. In small letters, a reply was written:

You're welcome. I happened to notice you dropped it on the way out from the library. As for who I am, guess!

Pressing her lips into a small smile, Maka left the set for the day, wondering what her reply would be.

-.~.-.~.-

Days until deadline: 4

I'm guessing you're not the Easter Bunny, nor Santa (har dee har har), but you knew where I was, so you're from the set, right?  
-Maka A.

Smart thinking, Maka. Need another hint?  
Signed,  
Not the Easter Bunny, nor Santa

-.~.-.~.-

Days until deadline: 3

If you're my dad, I swear I'll kill you for not just returning the sneaker to me in person. And yes, a hint would be nice.  
-Maka A.

Never mind about you being smart. You should know who this is by now.  
Signed,  
Not your Dad, either

-.~.-.~.-

Days until deadline: 2

Okay, you know what? If you're not a weird, fantasy… thing made up for the holidays, and you're not my dad, you're one of the actors, right?  
-Maka A.

Bingo, Maka.  
Signed,  
I'm closer than you think. In fact, I'll meet you on the set after work.

-.~.-.~.-

Maka struggled throughout the entire next day, impatient, and waiting for the day to be done. Though she had a feeling she knew who her little 'pen pal' was, she wasn't really willing to jump to conclusions, and focused on the shooting. It was easy enough, considering the fact that they were skipping all the parts she was struggling with for the day, though she was improving because of Soul's help. When the director called it a wrap, Maka all but jumped off the set to change.

"Say, Maka," Soul called, skidding her to a halt.

"Yeah?" She asked, slightly breathless as she turned around. She knew her cheeks were flushed with excitement, but she didn't care.

"Why don't we just try practicing with the set clothes today?" He asked, his eyes curious. "Tomorrow's your last day, you know."

"Oh, um…" Maka blinked. "Yeah." She had nearly forgotten about the deadline, and quickly sobered up at the thought of it. Whoever this person was would have to wait, then, she thought sadly. As much as she loved making new friends, her work was important, and if she didn't meet the director's expectations tomorrow, she would be fired from her biggest project of the year.

As the hours passed, Maka began having trouble focusing on Soul. The person she'd been exchanging notes with hadn't showed up, she thought sadly. Had this been the plan all along? To just leave her hanging? Surely there must be a reason the person never showed. Soul began noticing Maka's distracted glances, and when she paused before a line, he finally interrupted her.

"What's wrong, Maka?" Soul asked, a touch of concern in his voice. Maka turned to him, surprised at that.

"Since when have you ever cared?" She muttered, looking down. Disappointment pooled in her gut.

"Are you looking for someone?" He pressed with the same tone, if not a tad hurt.  
She looked at him apologetically, and sighed.

"Yeah, I guess. I promised someone I'd meet them here, but they never showed."

"Who would that be?"

"I don't know…" Maka swallowed. "I… was going to find out today."

"They said they'd meet you on the set?"

"Yeah." She looked at him. "What about it?"

"So," Soul continued. "Who's on the set right now, dumbass?"

Maka growled. "Dumbass? Why are you- oh."

"Yeah, Maka. Oh." Soul smiled teasingly. "You know, it kind of hurts that I've been waiting for this girl I really like for, like, five hours, but she didn't even know I was here." His voice dipped into irritation. "So, what are you going to do to make up for it?"

A blush threatening to dye her face red, Maka was silent for a moment before she looked up at Soul.

"We're going to practice."

-.~.-.~.-

She was sitting by herself again, allowing a dull look come into her eyes as she gazed into nothingness. A broken whisper came from her lips.

"…so you really never came…"

"Who never came?" Giving a start, Maka turned around to see Soul, whose grin threatened to split his face. Maka felt her own face curve to match his, and tears threatened as she looked up.

"Of course I came, stupid." He looked both bashful and confident, something she wouldn't have believed possible.

"What… what about your… date?" Her voice quivered, and she felt a light flush tint her cheeks. He laughed.

"Nah. I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything in the world."

Maka felt her breath hitch in her throat as she began to tangle her arms around his neck, looking into his crimson orbs- and she felt the entire room go silent, watching them, anticipating.

For the first time since she started the job, Maka felt herself act on her own feelings rather than that of another character's and they shared an intense stare that never broke until their lips touched.

"CUT!" The director yelled, and then let out a cheer. "That was great, Maka! Hey, Maka?"

But Soul and Maka, stretched out on the couch of the set, paid him no heed.

"Hey, we're not filming anymore… you can stop now. Soul? Maka?"

-.~.-.~.-

A/N: Probably the corniest thing I've ever written. No, really. Yay for happy endings! Anyway, I wanted to try writing something a little out of my style, and this happened. Hope you liked it! Review~


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